


I've Got You Carved Into My Skin

by DirtyCoffey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Scars, Unbeta'd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 13:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13591479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyCoffey/pseuds/DirtyCoffey
Summary: Sam was 15 when he carved his brothers initials into his skin.When Dean finally sees the initials it kicks off soul searching.Does it end in Dean seeing Sam as anything other than a little brother?





	I've Got You Carved Into My Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd-reader beware.  
> Like most authors, I wonder if I make any damn sense at all.  
> BTW, first slash fiction from me. So no porn.

"Dammit, Sam!" yelled Dean the moment he entered the rundown motel room. "Don’t ignore me! Don’t slam the car doors! Sammy!" Dean threw his keys on the table and continued yelling, "Dammit Sam, you listening to me?" 

Sam stripped down to his tee shirt and ignored his brother. Sam looked down at the copious amount of monster blood and gore that was glued his tee shirt to his body. He looked at his brother as Dean shed his top layer and was glad he didn’t see any blood. 

"Sam!" started Dean once again and Sam phased him out. Different day, different monster but the same old Dean. Sam added the peeled off t-shirt to the grody flannel shirt on the floor. He started kicking off his boots when Dean got into his face. 

"You listening to me?" asked Dean. 

"The whole motel is listening, Dean," Sam said as he pulled his belt out of his jeans. 

The hunt had been successful. Yet, it seemed that the Brothers Winchester could not agree on anything. It was time to go to ground for a while-hustle a little pool, do a little target practice. They both needed space to clear their heads. 

Sam dropped his jeans and stepped out his socks before heading into the bathroom. Dean grunted behind him and Sam tuned his brother out as he started the hot water. Slipping his boxers down, Sam turned around to find Dean in the bathroom. 

"Dude, first dibs. Clear the room," Sam demanded as he stood in front of his brother buck ass naked. 

"Older brother privilege, Sammy," Dean retorted as he dropped his jeans. Sam rolled his eyes and reached over to start the cold water. "Hey, Sammy," Dean queried. 

"Hmm?" asked Sam distracted as he started to step into the shower. 

"What’s up with that scar?" Dean asked. Sam stopped and looked at Dean following his eyes to his upper thigh. A smear of blood had seeped through his jeans and dried over a scar he had there. 

"An old scar. Nothing major," Sam replied before stepping into the shower. Sam shrank himself fit under the shower head. Dean finally noticing that he had etched "DW" into his groin was not something he wanted to talk about. Ever. He grabbed the tiny washcloth and started working on getting the monster gore off him. By the time Sam got out of the shower, Dean had retreated to the room. 

That night was like any other with Dean working his way through a six-pack and Sam researching at the table. Sam counted his blessing that Dean hadn’t said anything about his scar. Within a couple of hours, both boys crashed. 

"Hey," Dean commented from the front seat of Baby the next morning. They had checked out, breakfasted, and picked a random direction. With no hunt on the horizon, they set out hoping to find their next hunt while on the road. 

"Hmmm?" answered Sam. 

"You ever been with a dude?" 

"What?" asked a startled Sam. 

"Ever been with a guy?" repeated Dean. Sam stared at Dean like his brother had grown two heads. 

"Dean, I’ve seen more and heard more of your sex life than I ever need to know. Why the sudden interest in my sex life?" 

Dean’s jaw twitched and a heavy silence filled the Impala. After a few seconds, Sam turned back to the window and watched the Midwest fly by. 30 minutes later, Dean spoke up. 

"I was curious." 

Sam’s eyebrow lifted and he looked at his brother. "Gay porn is online. Lube and stretching is your friend." Maybe, just maybe, Dean wouldn’t dig anymore on this issue. The miles continued to fly by under Baby’s wheels as silenced settled. 

Lunch was a diner in Missouri and supper was a bar in Tennessee. After a few rounds of pool, the boys checked into a no-name motel on the two-lane highway. After they secured room, Dean settled onto his bed with the TV remote. Sam pulled out his laptop and started looking for their next hunt. 

"I saw you," Dean said after a half hour. Sam looked up, a little lost about what Dean had seen. "I saw you in that alley. With that guy." It took Sam a good thirty seconds to think back to before their last hunt and the quickie behind the bar. 

"Has this been what’s up your ass the past couple of days?" inquired Sam. 

"You were giving the guy a blowjob!" Dean exclaimed. 

"Congrats for figuring out I’m not a monk," Sam said dryly. He turned back to his laptop to pick up the search for another hunt. 

After a couple of commercials air, Dean picks up the thread of conversation. "Do you prefer guys to girls?" 

"Girls but I consider myself bi." Sam answered distracted. "De…" 

"Look, Sam, it’s no biggie. Forget about it," Dean says as he turns up the TV. Sam sits at the table at watches his brother trying to make sense of what is going on in his brother’s head. 

"You know, Dean, it’s okay if you got off on seeing me in that alley." 

"Drop it," Dean growled. 

"Could be a voyeurism kink or dirtywrong kink." 

"Sam," Dean snarled. 

"Look, Dean-" Sam started as Dean jumped off his bed and grabbed his jacket. 

"Don’t wait up, Sam," Dean said as he stomped out of the room. 

"Well, hopefully, a girl will help get your head out of your ass," commented Sam to the empty room. 

After scouring the web and not finding another case, Sam called it a night. Crawling into his bed with a beer and the TV remote, Sam waited for Dean to get home. Somewhere after 3 am, he drifted off to sleep still waiting for Dean. 

Over bacon and eggs the next morning, Dean asked Sam, "Do you have my initials on your groin?" Sam’s eyebrow rose to his hairline as he took another bite of his egg white omelet. "Simple question, Sam." 

Sam kept eating. Dean kicked his brother’s feet under the table. Cold war bloomed between the brothers. The waitress stopped by asking if they needed anything else. 

"No ma’am, we’re good. The check, please," Sam replied. Dean rose out of their booth and headed for the door, leaving Sam to deal with the check. After a couple of minutes, Sam slid into Baby and slammed the door shut. 

"Sammy," Dean warned as he started the car. Thirty minutes later, the cold war was in full effect. Dean was flying down the two-lane blacktop like they were being chased by the FBI. Sam sighed, sunk down into the bench seat, and stared unseeing out the window. Things would thaw, Sam knew. If only Dean would drop this obsession with a teenage scar and a back alley blowjob. But then again…Sam couldn’t make up his mind whether to spill all or swallow all. Losing Dean wasn’t an option. 

"I was 15," Sam said over the current cassette tape. Dean looked over at Sam confused for a moment. When he realized what Sam was talking about, Dean pulled the Impala over to a picnic pull out and put the car in park. 

"I was 15," Sam said again. Dean looked forward and waited for Sam. The silence stretched on tight and tense. Finally, Sam shoved his door open and stood up. What little nerve he’d worked up to say that much was gone. The cool wind cut through the warmth of the Impala and he welcomed the sensation. Dean followed Sam out of the car and opened the trunk. Sam joined him on the bumper and took the beer from Dean. 

"You ever think there’s something wrong with us?" Dean asked after half the can was drunk. 

"We hunt monsters for a living, Dean. We are grifters living off pool hustles and credit card scams. We’ve been to heaven and hell and you’re been to purgatory. What part of us is normal?" queried Sam. 

"Did I do something? Raise you wrong? Gave you too much attention when you were a kid?" speculated Dead. 

"When have our feelings ever been appropriate for each other? How many deals have we made for each other?" Sam replied. 

Dean took a heavy pull on his beer and tossed his empty in the trunk. He sat staring into the distance as his jaw danced. 

"You didn’t mess me up, Dean. It wasn’t anything you did or didn’t do. After all, there’s just one of use that’s fucked up," Sam said as he turned to toss his empty into the trunk. 

When Sam turned back around his brother was in his face. Dean’s hand wrapped around Sam’s jacket and hauled him up enough so that they were face to face. Then Dean dipped his head down and connected with Sam’s lips. 

Sam reached one hand up to grab a hold of Dean’s jacket and gave as good as he was getting. After a minute, Dean pulled back leaning his forehead on Sam’s. 

"15. Lamoni, Iowa," Sam whispered. Sam pulled back away from his brother and walked a couple of steps away. "I’ve loved you in so may way for so many years." A silence stretched between them and Sam heard his heartbeat in his ears. "Let me know when you know what you want," and then he slipped into Baby. 

Dean shut the trunk and followed Sam into the Impala. Neither brother said anything as Dean started Baby, put her into gear, and pulled back onto the blacktop. Boston’s "More Than a Feeling" started playing and Sam lost himself to the timelessness of the road. 

Two weeks, three hunts, six hundred miles later, and Sam hoped that Dean had forgotten. The homemade scar, the kiss, the confession. At least Dean hadn’t run. Yet. 

They were eating breakfast in a small town in Missouri when the topic was broached once again. Sam was admiring the sunlight on his brother’s face that highlighted his freckles. He may want Dean to forget everything but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still look. 

"I’ve been thinking," Dean started as he inhaled his bacon. Dean looked up from his breakfast and said, "Earth to Sam." 

"The sunlight coming in through the blinds make you even more beautiful," Sam blurted out. 

"Well, thanks, Sam. You still look like a girl." Dean said as he washed his bacon down with coffee. 

"You were thinking," prompted Sam as he stifled the urge to roll his eyes. 

"Oh, thinking. It’s nothing" said Dean as he cut into his pancakes. 

Conversation died out as the boys inhaled their breakfast. Dean paid while Sam went over the next case he had found in Alabama. 

The Alabama case was a simple salt and burn. Done with least amount of bloodshed albeit with the usual bruising from being tossed around. The boys stayed another day to pad their cash with some pool hustling. After three rounds and a few hundred dollars, Dean called it a day and joined Sam at their table. 

"Gonna hit the head," Dean said as he stuffed the rest of his fries in his mouth. Sam sat there, watching the rednecks play pool and the local girls flirt. The beer signs around the room did nothing to cut through the smoke. Everything had that hazy quality of a longtime bar. Sam drained the last of his beer and noticed their waitress had disappeared at the same time as Dean. Sam knew that when Dean reappeared so would their waitress. 

His phone lit up with a text from Dean. Sam laid down a couple of twenties and grabbed his jacket to meet Dean outside. He slipped out of the smoky bar room and into the warm night while Dean rolled up to the door. 

Sam looked over at Dean and did a double look. The half of Dean’s face he could see was purple around his eye and his jaw had a red smear. 

"Jealous boyfriend?" asked Sam. 

"Yep," answered Dean with his jaw clenching. 

"Was she worth it?" asked Sam with a grin. Dean didn’t answer as he parked Baby in front of their motel room. Dean sat as Baby ticked and cooled. "Do we need to pack and run?" asked Sam after no answer from Dean. 

"No." Dean made no move to get out of the Impala. Sam waited for his brother to either say what was on his mind or get out of the car. 

"I don’t know," Dean muttered as he yanked his door open. Sam followed as Dean unlocked their room and stepped into his room. "I have a Sam kink," Dean said as he stared at the wall. Sam stopped in his tracks and his mind imploded. 

"You have a what?" asked Sam to his brother’s back. 

"A Sam kink. It’s not guys. It’s you, apparently." 

"A me kink?!!?" 

Dean sat down on his bed and stared at the floor. "I thought if I’d pick up a guy it would be out of my system." Dean rubbed a hand through his hair before looking up at Sam. 

"You picked up a guy?" asked Sam, feeling like a parrot and unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. 

"Yes, Sam, I picked up a guy. Didn’t light me up though. And his boyfriend wasn’t happy," said Dean as he rubbed his raw knuckles. Sam continued to stand by the door not sure what to do or say. This was his big brother-the center of his universe-admitting that he had a Sam kink and that he tried to pick up a guy. The pieces weren’t fitting into what Sam knew of his brother. 

"I’m supposed to take care of you," said Dean in a small voice as he studied the threadbare carpet. 

"And you do, Dean. In a million ways. Just cause there’s a new aspect to how you feel about me, doesn’t mean you aren’t taking care of me." Sam found himself kneeling in front of his brother and wiped the smeared blood off of his jaw. "That boyfriend got in a few good hits," commented Sam. Dean smiled at Sam and patted Sam’s knee. 

"Thanks for you know," Dean said as he looked at Sam, "putting up with me and stuff." 

"Always will," Sam said. 

"Bitch," Dean responded. 

“Jerk,” replied Sam with a grin.

Dean reached one hand out and pushed Sam’s hair behind his ear. "So beautiful," Dean whispered. Sam leaned in and kissed his brother. 

This kiss was different than their first kiss. None of the pressing need to taste just once before getting decked. This kiss was slow and easy. Lazy kisses getting to know the taste of each other, the feel of lips and tongues sliding and bumping together. Hands roaming across arms and thighs and any inch of each other. 

"Sam, come here," Dean said as he scooted back onto the bed. Sam followed his big brother onto the bed. Slotting his body over Dean’s body with their legs entwined, cocks rubbing, and chests mashed together. Their lips pressing together more urgently. Soon they were grinding away with Dean’s hand on Sam’s ass pulling him even closer. 

"De," Sam whispered as Dean rolled his hips, setting up a rhythm. 

"Sam…Sammy…Sam," Dean chanted. Fingers continue to explore, grip, bruise. 

"Oh God, De," Sam whispered as his hips faltered and he filled his boxers. 

"Sammy," Dean grunted as he tipped over the edge. Sam rolled over and they laid there with their legs hanging off the side of the bed. Their chests heaving from the exertion, content to be next to each other. Sam’s fingers found Deans and he entwined them together for a minute. 

"First shower," Dean said as he continued laying there. 

"You have to move to claim the first shower," Sam said as he rolled off the bed. 

"Sonofabitch," said Dean as he watched Sam disappear into the shower. 

"Hey," Sam said reappearing in the bathroom doorway. "You’re not going to freak out are you?" 

"Nah. Normal is overrated. You and me, little brother. You and me until the end of the line."


End file.
